The South Winds
Of Cape Horn
((Or, “The Man with the Black Raincoat”)(1896))
Part Five
The Captain of the forty-food sailing yacht—a right snappy vessel, with a good size cabin, gaff rigged—was in one of those ongoing, non-stopping, monologues which men can carry on and on when they realize someone is listening, and they know more than that someone about something, of the center of the stage: suddenly, with in the Drake Passage, going east bound at 56 south latitude, the vessel absorbing the funneling effect of the Andes, going through one of the most hazardous ship routs in the world, a major challenge to anyone in any ship, strong winds, large waves—the wind giving rise to the strong waves—strong currents and icebergs, all lay in front of Captain Minor, and his wife Anna Mae Minor, of Columbus, Georgia, a yachtsman of the first kind, whose grandfather even once tried for—was involved with, back in the 1850s—with trying to win some Yachts Club Cup—was recounting the experience with actual pride, a sort of adolescent and remote vanity (his mind was not on what it should have been), it even sounded a bit like he was making half it up, thought Josephus Hightower I (on what one might call a vacation, with a business colleague), holding on the steel railing of the craft, looking at the small Island known as Cape Horn. The Captain took a quick darting to the sails, glancing at the large waves pushing the boat to and fro like a kite in the wind.
“I don’t see how anyone ever sleeps on such vessels,” said Josephus.
“No one ever gets used to it, that’s for sure…” said his wife, Anna Mae. She like Josephus, were breathing down, getting drunk on the shifting of the boat. And Josephus got to thinking, could he sink? That’s when the mountains of Cape Horn became visible, right to his side.
“What do you do, Anna Mae when you’re scared on such trips?” asked Josephus.
“I try to daydream, back when I was a young girl, and I was drowning and Herb (her husband), jumped in and saved me.” She exclaimed.
And it seemed like Josephus was thinking right hard on what she said, but he hadn’t been this scared before. And then he held his eyes tight and shut, the largest wave he had ever seen was coming, and he thought how much he had done for his son, Josephus II, and his daughter Ruth, and how would they ever do without him. And a voice in the back of his head said something as he was getting ready to look, and he counted inside his head: 1, 2, 3, 4—1, 2, 3, 4, over and over, and he opened his eyes and the biggest wave he had ever seen was upon him, and that voice had said, ‘They’ll be fine, they always are…” and there towards the stern (back part) of the boat was a man with a black raincoat onboard the ship (Josephus also notice the helm was wild, no one steering the boat, and the jack fell into the water, and the masts feel into the water, and the poop broke open), and his name was: Nick, or Death—and he wore an iron belt, and he had chains on the belt perhaps for his captives to be, as if it kept him steady on the vessel too, and Anna Mae saw him also, the only one that didn’t see him was Herb, the captain who was holding onto something at the bow (front) of the ship, perhaps the anchor. And the wave hit the ship, and the ship toss liked to and fro a broken legged seagull, and then upside down, and then onto its side, and there were icebergs that hit the ship (or the ship hit the iceberg) like sharp spikes and no one would know it until later and it jabbed into the ship—broke its spine, like a shark into a human body. And the guts of the vessel fell open and emptied out.
“Oh, yes,” said Josephus as he sunk to the bottom of the passage, “this is something else I didn’t plan on.” And Anna Mae, looked at him, as she sunk alongside him, and Josephus was thinking— ‘Will Herb save her this time?” And it all became dark; he could almost hear the darkness full of movement, feeling, approaching, and the blood in his veins freezing like a statue in a museum. And that was all that was left of him, forever and ever on plant earth.
No. 568/ 1-13-2010
Of Cape Horn
((Or, “The Man with the Black Raincoat”)(1896))
Part Five
The Captain of the forty-food sailing yacht—a right snappy vessel, with a good size cabin, gaff rigged—was in one of those ongoing, non-stopping, monologues which men can carry on and on when they realize someone is listening, and they know more than that someone about something, of the center of the stage: suddenly, with in the Drake Passage, going east bound at 56 south latitude, the vessel absorbing the funneling effect of the Andes, going through one of the most hazardous ship routs in the world, a major challenge to anyone in any ship, strong winds, large waves—the wind giving rise to the strong waves—strong currents and icebergs, all lay in front of Captain Minor, and his wife Anna Mae Minor, of Columbus, Georgia, a yachtsman of the first kind, whose grandfather even once tried for—was involved with, back in the 1850s—with trying to win some Yachts Club Cup—was recounting the experience with actual pride, a sort of adolescent and remote vanity (his mind was not on what it should have been), it even sounded a bit like he was making half it up, thought Josephus Hightower I (on what one might call a vacation, with a business colleague), holding on the steel railing of the craft, looking at the small Island known as Cape Horn. The Captain took a quick darting to the sails, glancing at the large waves pushing the boat to and fro like a kite in the wind.
“I don’t see how anyone ever sleeps on such vessels,” said Josephus.
“No one ever gets used to it, that’s for sure…” said his wife, Anna Mae. She like Josephus, were breathing down, getting drunk on the shifting of the boat. And Josephus got to thinking, could he sink? That’s when the mountains of Cape Horn became visible, right to his side.
“What do you do, Anna Mae when you’re scared on such trips?” asked Josephus.
“I try to daydream, back when I was a young girl, and I was drowning and Herb (her husband), jumped in and saved me.” She exclaimed.
And it seemed like Josephus was thinking right hard on what she said, but he hadn’t been this scared before. And then he held his eyes tight and shut, the largest wave he had ever seen was coming, and he thought how much he had done for his son, Josephus II, and his daughter Ruth, and how would they ever do without him. And a voice in the back of his head said something as he was getting ready to look, and he counted inside his head: 1, 2, 3, 4—1, 2, 3, 4, over and over, and he opened his eyes and the biggest wave he had ever seen was upon him, and that voice had said, ‘They’ll be fine, they always are…” and there towards the stern (back part) of the boat was a man with a black raincoat onboard the ship (Josephus also notice the helm was wild, no one steering the boat, and the jack fell into the water, and the masts feel into the water, and the poop broke open), and his name was: Nick, or Death—and he wore an iron belt, and he had chains on the belt perhaps for his captives to be, as if it kept him steady on the vessel too, and Anna Mae saw him also, the only one that didn’t see him was Herb, the captain who was holding onto something at the bow (front) of the ship, perhaps the anchor. And the wave hit the ship, and the ship toss liked to and fro a broken legged seagull, and then upside down, and then onto its side, and there were icebergs that hit the ship (or the ship hit the iceberg) like sharp spikes and no one would know it until later and it jabbed into the ship—broke its spine, like a shark into a human body. And the guts of the vessel fell open and emptied out.
“Oh, yes,” said Josephus as he sunk to the bottom of the passage, “this is something else I didn’t plan on.” And Anna Mae, looked at him, as she sunk alongside him, and Josephus was thinking— ‘Will Herb save her this time?” And it all became dark; he could almost hear the darkness full of movement, feeling, approaching, and the blood in his veins freezing like a statue in a museum. And that was all that was left of him, forever and ever on plant earth.
No. 568/ 1-13-2010
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